4. Joe

Chapter 4

Joe

The chorus of birds woke me up. I was surprisingly dry and warm after sleeping on the damp ground. After the storm, I'd spent a few nights in an old barn that I thought was abandoned, only to be run out of there by a terrifying group of teenagers. I guess it was their hangout spot, and a transient omega didn't fit the vibe.

I came back to the willow tree because I didn't know where else to go. I admit I was a bit weirded out by the naked man who had been in my camp the last time I slept here, but he didn't seem dangerous, so I was willing to risk it.

After stretching my arms over my head, I rolled over and hugged my sleeping bag around me. It was still cold, and I didn't want to get up. Getting up meant remembering my empty belly and facing the fact that my plan to live a nomadic lifestyle wasn't working.

That's when I spotted the basket hanging from a tree branch that definitely wasn't there when I went to sleep.

I thought it was a basket of flowers because all I could see from my angle was a tall purple flower sticking out the top. Nervously, I looked around to see if whoever had brought it was still there.

When I didn't see anyone, I plucked it from the tree and saw that it was filled with food. The flower had been placed on top. This was a gift. For me.

I dug into the delicious food—homemade bread, cheese, tons of perfectly smoked trout, and even chocolate chip cookies. I didn't even notice the tears of gratitude streaming down my cheeks, until the salty drops mixed with the cookies, making them even yummier.

Just a few minutes later, I had enough energy to rebuild my fire. I sat close to the flames, warming myself before I dug out my little camping pot and boiled water for tea. Whoever had left the basket for me had no idea how much I needed it.

I had to find a way to thank them.

Without any other guesses, my mind went to the man I'd seen in my camp. Waking up to naked strangers didn't happen to me often. Actually, it had never happened to me. But he didn't seem like a creep or a pervert. In fact, he seemed surprised to see me . And then he ran off into the pawflower.

Could the basket have come from him?

With my belly full and newfound energy coursing through me, I stood up and stretched again. I'd spotted a lake nearby, and with a little luck, which I seemed to be attracting for the first time ever, the owner wouldn't mind if I pulled a couple fish out of it.

It just took a minute to find a good willow branch I could use as a pole, and then I set out.

My eyes were peeled for signs of coyotes as I walked to the lake. I didn't think my friend would come out during the day, but even seeing signs that he was around would have been nice. If he was still around, he was hiding pretty well.

I found a good spot at the lake and pulled out my fishing line and hooks. I rigged up a pole with the willow branch, dug in the soft dirt for some worms, and before long, I was happily watching the morning sun glint off the water.

Fishing was something I could do for a long time. I loved the quiet meditation of it. After an hour, I'd only caught one fish, but I didn't have anything else to do, so I stuck the rod in the beach, leaning against my leg so I could feel a tug, and pulled out my book. I was almost finished with that book and was out of money, so I tried to read slowly and savor each word.

That wasn't an easy thing to do when it was a page-turner.

I had about two pages to go when I heard a splash. It was too loud to be a fish, so I scanned the small lake until I saw a person swimming on the other shore. I pulled myself back off the beach, under the cover of the trees, and watched. The binoculars I kept for birdwatching were just within reach, so I grabbed them and adjusted the lens until I could see the man's face.

Yep, same naked dude from the other night.

I watched his strong arms pulling swiftly through the water, then he swam up to some rocks and hoisted his naked body onto them. His wet, muscular frame glinted in the sun before he picked up a towel and dried his face. Before my heart started beating again, he turned to look out at the lake, and I got a full frontal view.

An involuntary gasp escaped from my mouth as I took in the vision of a god. He was perfect.

My gaze traveled up to his face, and even at this distance, I could see that he looked sad. Something stirred in my chest. A strong urge to touch his face, to comfort him. As he continued to towel off, my heart started pounding in my chest and my dick got hard.

Apparently, I wanted to touch more than his face.

A movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention when the fishing pole started to jerk. I'd caught something. When I turned back to the binoculars, the man was gone and the coyote was standing there instead, in the exact same spot. I'd looked away for three seconds, tops. How was that possible? I scanned the rocks and vegetation for signs of the man, but his towel lay on the rock beside the coyote.

It was definitely the same coyote. A thought nagged at me, but I pushed it away. Don't be stupid, Joe . I finally grabbed the pole, which looked like it was going to get jerked off the beach and into the water at any second, and when I turned back to the coyote, he was gone too.

I caught two more fish and then headed back to camp to roast them up. I took a different route back, exploring more of the farm. Admittedly, I was hoping to run into the man. I wondered if he ever wore clothes. Maybe he was a nudist. That would be kinda hot. I also hoped to run into the coyote, and the silly thought kept bumping around in my mind that the man and the coyote were one and the same.

I'd heard about shifters but didn't think they were actually real. There were legends of shifters in my hometown, but nobody ever had any proof. They were like bigfoot. But as I'd been traveling around, getting out of the narrow-minded valley of my childhood, I'd heard more talk of shifters from people who didn't think believing in them was strange at all. I was beginning to wonder if it was the foolish people who didn't believe.

That evening, I roasted up the fish I'd caught and ate one with more of the delicious bread. I cleaned and fileted the other two, carefully removing the bones, then I set them out on a plate and hoped the coyote would come around. I re-read the last few chapters of my book and was starting to get sleepy when I heard him.

The animal came padding out of the pawflower from the same row the man had disappeared into. When I looked up, our eyes locked.

Not sure what else to do, I gestured for him to come closer, and he did, allowing me to scratch behind his ears and along his jaw. He closed his eyes and leaned into the scratches for just a moment, then he opened them back up and seemed to smile again before he walked over to the plate of fish.

I nodded toward it. "That's for you. Go on."

He ate slowly while watching me stoke the fire and get some water boiling. I unrolled the sleeping bag, hoping he might stay again.

But he didn't. Instead, he walked over and gave me a gentle little lick on my cheek, like he was thanking me, and then he turned away and disappeared through the flowers.